


fracture

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Series: drabbles [19]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, M/M, Unrequited Love, everyone else is mentioned in passing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: they realize they miss each other on an ordinary monday night.





	fracture

**Author's Note:**

> wasn't intending to write this but it happened anyways.   
> everything is fiction. 
> 
> have fun

They miss each other, they realize on an ordinary Monday night.

Scott’s over at Mason and Mark’s and Mitch is at Beau’s. They’re both in bed, wide awake, their respective partners asleep next to them. It’s two in the morning. And they’re hurting.

The Twitter fandom is melting down with old pictures and gifs and videos and memories of them, of how they used to be, of how they can’t be anymore. Of what they decided to put behind them.

And they realize they miss each other a lot. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other and been in close proximity with each other, no, they still live together and work together and that hasn’t changed, but at the same time, so much has changed.

It’s like there’s an emotional divide between them. Not a gap that can be bridged or a wall that can be broken down, but a virtual divide that’s impossible to cross. It’s like they can’t sense each other the way they used to—a byproduct of lack of intimacy, but this time, it feels different. It feels permanent. But at the same time, their current relationships _don’t_ , and that’s the scary part.

It feels like they’ve come to a crossroads with their own relationship, have chosen to part onto different but parallel paths, just far enough that they can’t step across. The people they walk with are amazing, beautiful people, but they don’t quite _fit_.

For Scott, it comes in the form of a hollow that reappears next to his heart, just behind his sternum. It pulses in time with his heartbeat and aches, a longing for something that he never really had. It’s a craving at two in the morning for a small, familiar form to hold, a longing for the scent of that brand of lotion that hasn’t changed for the past six years. It’s a hollow that Mark and Mason don’t fill completely, as close as they come.

For Mitch, it comes in the form of the feeling that he’s pulling apart at the seams around his ribcage. It’s the feeling that he’s being stretched too far and not pressed back together. It’s the yearning at four in the morning for a familiar figure to crush him into the mattress and squish all of his pieces back together, the aching for the feeling of scruff scratching at the nape of his neck just the right way. It’s a scattering of parts that Beau can’t quite build back entirely, as hard as he tries.

For _them_ , it’s the way they’ll fall into silences when they’re together alone, whether for work or at home, silences that aren’t quite as comfortable as they used to be. They’re not uncomfortable, though. They’re hovering at the very edge of comfortable, like they could be pushed over if someone were to say something out of turn.

It’s almost like _undefined_ was the only place that fit them, the only description that defined their relationship, as ironic as it was. Now that they have to be defined, it’s cracked the fragile agreement of _maybe someday_ that’s always lurked behind them, particularly these last few months. It’s not shattered, not by any means, but it’s cracked, and neither of them know how to fix it without losing their current support systems.

Mitch sighs, scrolling father down his timeline. He stops at a set of pictures from Queer Prom, takes in how happy they look together. A pang hits him in the chest, leaving him gasping for breath. He realizes he never saved these to this phone. His thumb hovers over the pictures.

Scott blinks back tears as he sees post after post after post of old pictures, things from tour and things from break and things from years ago and more recent things. He stops at a set of pictures from the Supefruit ball pit video, the one where they’re lady-and-tramp-ing a donut, realizes he doesn’t have them on his phone. His thumb hovers over the pictures.

They can’t.

They keep scrolling.

They have to move on from this level of codependency. It’s not healthy.

A few tears track down Scott’s cheeks. The sting in Mitch’s chest grows to a steady ache.

It’s working.

They’re growing apart, at least emotionally. It’s good. It’s healthy. It’s important.

It’s fucking painful. It fucking hurts so much. So much. It’s the slow tearing apart of two souls meant to be together because they’re too scared to lose each other so they try to control the separation.

But it’s okay. It’s okay. They have to learn to exist outside of each other.

And honestly? They just want each other to be happy.

And Scott sees Mitch happy with Beau, Mitch sees Scott happy with Mark and Mason.

There’s no reason either of them should believe the other misses them as much as they do.

And yet they can’t help scrolling back up to the posts that caught their eyes. They each save one picture at two-eleven in the morning before they close Twitter and lock their phones like it’s something they shouldn’t have done. Like it’s wrong. Like it’s dangerous.

What they know thanks to offhanded comments is that they still fall asleep within two minutes of each other like they used to when they shared beds and kisses and more.

They still share that, no matter how far apart.

It hurts.

 

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you're sad


End file.
